


The Way to a Man's Heart is Through His Stomach

by futuresoon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Monsters, Frottage, Gore, M/M, Slow Build, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9301982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuresoon/pseuds/futuresoon
Summary: In desperate need of a new job and a new apartment, recently unemployed baker Yuuri Katsuki moves to a part of the city he doesn’t know much about and gets a position in a family friend’s bakery he’s never been to. But the people there are kind of weird, and the bakery gets some strange orders. At least one of his neighbors is nice. Probably not human, and has weird eating habits, but nice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to andante-ace for plot help!

Yuuri really should’ve sprung for professional movers.

Except part of the reason for this situation in the first place is because of his lack of funds, so no, he resigns himself to dealing with Minako’s grumbling while they try to get the couch up the staircase. “Lift up your end more,” she says.

His shoulders are already straining. “I’m _trying,”_ he says. He doesn’t want to snap at her. He’s just really not one for heavy lifting. Neither is she, though. They’ve been trying to get the couch up the too many stairs for longer than they’d like.

“I wish this damn thing would’ve fit in the elevator,” Minako says for the third time in the past several minutes. “Why’d you have to pick a building with an elevator too small for a couch?”

Yuuri grimaces as they take another few steps up. They’re almost at the next landing. The couch bangs against a nearby wall. “It’s a good deal,” he says for the second time in the last two hours. “The rent’s cheap and the apartment’s nice. It just doesn’t have a huge elevator, that’s all.”

“Well, why’d you pick a couch too big for the elevator, then?”

“I already _had_ this couch--oof!”

The next thing that bangs against a wall is Yuuri’s head, and the impact is rather harder. “Ow ow ow,” he hisses, wishing he had his hands free so he could rub the sore spot. 

“You okay?” Minako asks. “We could stop for a minute.”

“No, I just want to get this over with,” Yuuri says grimly. He tries to lift his end higher. Unfortunately, that’s hard to do when things are getting a little dizzy.

A voice comes from higher up. “Do you two need--whoa!” Two other arms are suddenly there, one holding onto Yuuri’s end of the couch and the other one holding onto Yuuri, who hasn’t _actually_ collapsed, just maybe is a little bit less vertical than he was previously.

“Yuuri!” Minako cries out in alarm. “Hold on, I’ll put this down--”

“Don’t worry, Minako, I’ve got him,” the voice says. “All right, here we go.” Yuuri finds one of his arms around someone else’s shoulders. They’re very nice shoulders. Muscular.

“Okay, let’s get this on the landing,” the voice says. Several moments pass in which Yuuri manages to not bang his feet against the steps while the person holding him up moves higher. Finally, they reach flat ground. Yuuri hears a _thud,_ presumably the couch. The person with the shoulders sets Yuuri down on it, and Yuuri finally gets a look at them.

They’re a man with floppy gray hair, wearing sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a concerned expression. “Are you dizzy?” he asks.

Yuuri considers it. “Kinda,” he says.

The man frowns and runs his hand across the back of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri winces. “You’re not bleeding,” the man says. “You’ll probably be fine in a few minutes.” He looks over in a direction that probably has Minako in it. “Is he moving in here?” he asks.

“Yeah, 620,” she replies. “The damn couch wouldn’t fit in the elevator. Can you take care of it for us while I get him to his apartment?”

“Yeah,” the man echoes. He looks back at Yuuri. “Hope you feel better,” he says.

Now Minako’s helping him up. “Come on, it’s not that far,” she says. 

The next couple minutes are something of a blur. Eventually, Yuuri finds himself in one of the dining chairs they already brought up. Minako opens one of the cardboard boxes on the kitchen counter, pulls out a glass, and fills it with water from the sink. “I don’t know if water will actually do anything, but you never know,” she says, handing it to him.

Yuuri takes a sip anyway. Huh. The water’s actually pretty good here.

Not long after, the man returns. “Can you help me get it through the doorway?” he asks.

“Right, yeah,” Minako says, and goes to help maneuver the couch into the apartment. “Where do you want it, Yuuri?” she asks.

“Mm. Over…there.” Yuuri points in the general direction of where he wanted it. They’ll probably figure it out.

The man sets it down against the wall. Yeah, there. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks.

Yuuri blinks. “Is it the mild head injury that makes it seem like you carried a couch up two flights of stairs by yourself?” he says.

The man laughs. “So you are,” he says. “I’m Victor Nikiforov. What’s your name?”

“Yuuri Katsuki. So about the couch--”

“He’s a regular at the bakery,” Minako says. “You’ll probably see him around.”

“Though you’re more likely to see me around here, given that we’re neighbors,” Victor says, gesturing towards the door. “619, right next door.”

Yuuri decides to drop the subject of the couch. His thoughts might be clearer, but his head still hurts. “Thanks,” he says. “We were having a hard time there.”

“I noticed,” Victor says wryly. “Happy to help. If I may ask, how do you know Minako?”

“Oh, uh, she’s a friend of my mom’s,” Yuuri says. “They went to college together. I needed a job, and I cook, so she’s letting me work with her now.”

Minako huffs. _“Letting_ you,” she says. “That last café didn’t know what they had.”

“They didn’t know what health codes were, either,” Yuuri points out. “I didn’t really like it there anyway.” But it would’ve been nice to have more notice before they downsized half their staff. Also for there to be a paycheck that month.

“Well, it’s good to meet you,” Victor says. He holds out his hand, and Yuuri shakes it. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Yuuri says, waving at Victor as he leaves and enters his own apartment.

“Finish that water and we’ll get back to work,” Minako says. “We’ve still got that mattress to deal with.”

Yuuri takes another drink and glumly thinks, _At least I could use the upper body strength._

\---

By the time Yuuri’s finished his first shift, there’s cake flour all over him, icing embedded under his fingernails, and a streak of chocolate on his nose he didn’t notice until one of the other workers pointed it out to him, and his feet are sore, he nicked his finger on a baguette, and he almost burned his hand on a tray he thought hadn’t been put in an oven yet.

It’s the best job he’s ever had.

He cleans up in the employee bathroom and heads out. There’s still plenty of time before closing, so Phichit’s still at the register, but there’s no more baking to be done today. He leaves through the employee exit, but the street he needs to take to get home is by the front of the building, so he’s not sure why he bothers. Propriety, maybe.

The front door opens with a jingle as he passes it, and he hears, “Oh, hello Yuuri!” Turning around, he sees Victor again, waving and grinning while carrying three cake boxes, two boxes of cupcakes, six of the little plastic bags with two cookies in them, and a large hot cocoa. The cocoa’s in the hand he’s waving with. Everything else is in the other.

Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “Are you having a party or something?”

“Or something,” Victor says cheerfully. “Are you on your way home? I can drive you. Since we’re going the same way and all.”

“Oh, sure, that’d be great,” Yuuri says. “I was just gonna walk.” It’s not that far. His feet really are sore, though.

“Wonderful, my car’s right over there,” Victor says, gesturing down the street. “When I’m only going here I usually walk too, but today I came from work.”

While they walk to Victor’s car, Yuuri asks, “What do you do?” Victor’s wearing a gray suit and tie this time, so he assumes it’s not retail.

“I work in a funeral home,” Victor says, just as cheerful as before.

“That sounds…fun,” Yuuri says, for lack of anything else.

Victor laughs. “I don’t deal with the funerals myself, I only prepare the bodies. Embalming and so on. Can you hold this for me?” He holds out the cocoa when they reach the car. Yuuri takes it, and Victor fishes in his pocket for the car key, pulling it out and pressing the unlock button. The car beeps in recognition. Victor pockets the key again and opens the side door with his free hand, carefully placing the boxes inside the car before closing the door and taking the drink back from Yuuri. “Thank you,” he says.

“No problem,” Yuuri says, not terribly comforted by the knowledge that Victor’s hands have probably been covered in dead people’s bodily fluids.

They both get into the car. It’s significantly nicer than the retrospective deathtrap Yuuri used to have before it fell apart for no cheaply fixable reason. Maybe making dead bodies look pretty pays well.

“What cakes did you get?” Yuuri asks, once their seatbelts are on and Victor’s started driving. 

“Black forest, lemon chiffon, and carrot cake,” Victor replies. “They don’t usually have carrot cake. Was that you?”

“Ah, yeah, it was,” Yuuri says. He’s always liked making those. Minako was happy to add it to today’s menu.

Victor gives a megawatt smile. “Then I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” he says.

Yuuri peers at the back seat. He can just barely see the plastic on the top layer of cupcake boxes. “Did you get one of every kind of cupcake?” he asks.

“Three, actually,” Victor says. “It’s always so hard to choose between flavors.”

There were eight kinds today. Yuuri kind of agrees with him, though.

“So, what brings you out here?” Victor asks. He takes a sip of cocoa, now in the cup holder.

“Uh, Minako mentioned that I lost my job,” Yuuri says. “Then my roommate bailed on me and I couldn’t afford the rent anymore, so it was either find a new place or move back in with my parents, and they’re on the other side of the state. Minako offered me a job and said rent was pretty reasonable where she lived. The past week has been kind of a whirlwind, to be honest.”

“I know the feeling,” Victor says. He takes another sip and puts the cup back in the holder. “Minako’s something of a fixture around here. I found my job through her, actually. The previous embalmer at the local funeral home was suddenly in need of his own services, and she knew through the grapevine that I’d just graduated, so I flew out here and started work that evening. I lived with her for a few days before I could get my own place. And I haven’t left since.”

Wow. As far as Yuuri knows, Minako is just his mom’s old college roommate. Given that his mom is in her fifties, though, Minako’s probably got more life experience than she looks.

“What kind of grapevine does Minako have, anyway?” he says, impressed.

Victor laughs again. He has a really nice laugh. “She’s met my family,” he says. “She keeps in touch with a lot of the people she meets. You know how it is.”

Yuuri doesn’t, actually, but whatever. He’s willing to accept that a person he doesn’t know very well has layers he’s unaware of.

“Anyway, I hope you like it here,” Victor says. “It’s a good area. I don’t go to the rest of the city much, but this district has everything we need. And an excellent bakery, too.” He glances at Yuuri and winks. Something in Yuuri’s stomach curls up.

The drive back to the apartment building is pretty short. “Do you need help carrying anything?” Yuuri asks, once they’ve parked in the building parking lot and Victor starts unloading his boxes. 

“You could hold this again,” Victor says, holding out the cup. Yuuri takes it and watches as Victor picks up the stacks of boxes and bags like they don’t weigh anything. Maybe he’s a weightlifter.

The elevator’s at least big enough for two people, though not especially tall ones. When they get back to their floor, Victor unlocks his door with his free hand, takes back the cocoa, and says, “Thanks for the company. See you around, Yuuri.” He closes his door behind him.

_I forgot to thank him for the ride,_ Yuuri realizes. Oh well. He’ll do it the next time they see each other. 

He hopes that’s soon.

\---

‘Soon’ turns out to be a few days later. Yuuri has to get up at a ridiculous hour to start making the food that will need to be ready for customers at a less ridiculous hour, but he’s used to it, so he’s only yawning a little when he takes two steps out of his apartment and bumps right into Victor.

“I’m sorry,” they say simultaneously, and both smile a little at it. 

Victor keeps walking. “Sorry, I’m in a hurry,” he says. 

The elevator isn’t, though, so it still hasn’t arrived yet after the short amount of time it takes for Yuuri to walk there too. “Are you going to work?” Yuuri asks.

Victor nods. “Embalmers are always on call,” he says, gesturing towards a pager on his belt. “Death waits for no man, and neither do corpses. People don’t die on a 9-to-5 schedule.”

It makes sense, even though it’s not something Yuuri has ever had to think about at all. “I get up early to make bread,” he says.

Victor laughs. “A noble profession!” he says. “You help keep people alive, I make sure they’re treated well when they’re not. We each have our role to play.”

The elevator arrives with a ding, and they both get into it. Victor presses the button for the first floor. Several seconds later, the doors close.

“I’ll probably come by the bakery after the job’s done, assuming that’s only late afternoon,” he says. “I hope some of that bread will still be available.”

“Well, the first batch’ll be gone by then, but we make more,” Yuuri says. “We get a lot of customers.” More than he’d expected, for a medium-sized bakery owned by one person.

“Minako is a popular woman, and so is anything she oversees,” Victor says. “Even if she doesn’t do any of the baking herself.”

The elevator reaches the bottom floor. As soon as it opens, Victor rushes out with a wave and a “See you later!”

As far as Yuuri can tell, Minako manages the business side of things. Her office is in a back room he hasn’t been to. Maybe she did food prep when she started out.

Aw, crap. He forgot to thank Victor for the ride again.

Later, his hands full of dough, Yuuri asks, “Did Minako ever actually bake here? I thought she just did the business stuff.”

His coworker Mila, her hands equally full, shrugs and says, “I dunno. She built this place like twenty years ago, and none of the people who worked here then work here now. I think these days she focuses more on the consulting stuff.”

Yuuri blinks. “She does consulting?” Man, he doesn’t know Minako at all, does he.

Mila gives him a sidelong glance. “Uh, kinda,” she says. “Just advice, really. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Huh.” Well, it’s not like he expected everyone to tell him everything about themselves right off the bat. He’s barely even seen Minako since the day he moved in. Come to think of it, he’s seen more of Victor.

…he’s not actually opposed to that.

\---

Yuuri almost collapses in the breakroom. He’ll have to go back to work in forty-five minutes, but it feels like his feet are going to fall off. He rests them on the coffee table in front of the couch and breathes deep.

Phichit’s already there, on the other side of the couch, in the same position. _At least you don’t have to come in until 6, lucky bastard,_ Yuuri thinks, and then reminds himself that the people at the registers leave later than he does anyway. 

“How’re you settling in?” Phichit asks, glancing over at Yuuri from his nigh-horizontal pose. 

Yuuri tilts his head back to let it rest on the top of the couch. “It’s going pretty well,” he says. “The job’s great, the apartment’s good, I haven’t had any real problems here.”

“That’s good,” Phichit says with a nod. “We were already expecting to get a new hire soon, but we thought it’d be somebody from the district. It’s a pretty tight-knit community here.” He grins. “You’re cool, though! I’m glad she hired you.”

“Aw, thanks,” Yuuri says, trying not to blush a little at the unexpected praise. He hadn’t made any friends at the café. It wasn’t really a positive work environment. “Hey, do you know Victor Nikiforov? I live next door to him and apparently he comes here a lot."

Phichit suddenly examines his fingernails. “Yeah, he does,” he says lightly. “Probably our best customer. Is he friendly to you?”

“I’ve only met him a few times, but he seems nice,” Yuuri says. “And he’s not noisy or anything. Better than a lot of neighbors I’ve had.”

Phichit makes a noncommittal noise. Then he sits up, eyes wide, grinning. “Hey, do you have a cellphone?” he asks. “I totally need your contact info.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s in my jacket. I’ll go get it.” Yuuri stands up, only wincing a little at the added pressure to his feet. 

Phichit pulls one out of his pants pocket immediately. Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “Are we supposed to have those with us during work hours?” he asks.

“What Minako doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Phichit says brightly.

Yuuri thinks that probably isn’t true, but whatever. He and Phichit exchange contact information. _Did I just make a friend?_ he wonders.

Add that to the list of improvements on his previous year. Yeah, living here is pretty cool.

\---

Yuuri’s halfway down the street, leaving work and wondering how soon is too soon to text Phichit about non-work-related stuff, when he hears, “Hello, Yuuri!” from a ways behind him.

He turns around to see Victor, carrying what looks like four boxes of cookies, one box of muffins, and three loaves of bread. He didn’t know they even _did_ boxes for the muffins. Victor waves, so Yuuri waves back. “Hey, Victor,” he says. “How much money do you spend there, anyway?”

Victor walks up to him. “I get a discount,” he says. Yuuri didn’t know they did discounts, either. “It’s lucky I saw you--are you doing anything right now?”

Yuuri shakes his head. He doesn’t really have anything to do after work at all ever yet. 

Victor beams. “Perfect!” he says. “Would you like to get dinner with me? I’ve been working all day and I’m starving, but I’m not really in the mood to cook anything.”

Yuuri’s dinner plans were just leftovers. He’s better at pastry than meal stuff. “Uh, sure,” he says, blinking. “Do you want to drop off your boxes at your place first?”

“No, there’s nothing that’ll melt in the car. Come in, let’s go!”

Once he sits down, Yuuri relaxes a little. Spending twelve hours on your feet is rough.

Victor seems to notice. “Long day for you too?” he asks.

“You never really get used to standing all day,” Yuuri says. “I’ve done food service for years, and my feet still hurt every time.” Breaks where you can sit down are heavenly.

Victor nods while he turns the car on. “I spend most of my day standing, too,” he says. “Except for the paperwork. At least some of the people I work with get to lie down.”

Yuuri cringes. “Does a dark sense of humor come with the job or something?”

“I won’t say it doesn’t help.”

After a while, Yuuri asks, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“There’s this Indian buffet I go to sometimes,” Victor replies. “It’s vegetarian, though. I hope you don’t mind.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I’m not that picky when it comes to food,” he says. “I didn’t know you were vegetarian, though.”

Victor gives a wry smile. “Meat disagrees with me,” he says. “I could never be vegan, but whenever I eat out, it has to be somewhere with a meat-free option. So I mostly cook at home.”

“I’m kind of glad it’s not a ‘cruelty to animals’ thing,” Yuuri says. He’s all for local sources; even if you don’t like the big companies for various reasons (he doesn’t), there are plenty of ways to get meat that don’t hurt animals. Well. Besides the killing.

“There’s that too, to a certain extent,” Victor says. He makes a turn down a street Yuuri vaguely recognizes from when Minako first showed him around the district. “I don’t like to think about anything suffering before I eat it. Vegetables don’t have that problem.”

…well, nobody’s perfect. Yuuri lets the subject drop.

They arrive at the restaurant. Yuuri’s never been there, but then, he’s new here and also doesn’t get out much anyway.

A cheery-looking Indian lady who must be the hostess greets them when they enter, but when she sees Victor her smile gets a little strained. She takes them to a table anyway, though, and tells them to enjoy their meal.

“Does she know you?” Yuuri asks, glancing back at the hostess. “She didn’t seem happy to see you.”

“I think I make an impression when I eat out,” Victor says airily. “Shall we get our food?”

The long counters of food look mouth-watering. Yuuri’s not massively hungry, though, so he just scoops some pilaf, curried lentils, and palak paneer onto his plate and gets a cup of tea from a dispenser. He glances over at Victor to see what he’s getting.

…everything, apparently, or at least a large amount of them, with pretty hefty servings. He’s already got two plates. And a smaller plate piled with just samosas.

It takes him two trips to get it all back to the table, and he’s also somehow balancing two cups of tea on the second one. Yuuri watches, impressed.

“Did you skip lunch today?” he asks.

Victor shakes his head. “No, I’m just hungry,” he says. “And the food here is great, you should try it.”

Yuuri tries a spoonful of palak paneer, and it is indeed pretty good. Spicy enough to make him immediately take a drink of tea, but good. The texture of the cheese is nice and springy, and the sauce has a kick to it.

Watching Victor eat is an experience. He doesn’t eat quickly, or take larger bites than usual; he just doesn’t _stop._ Yuuri suddenly wonders how fast he goes through what he gets at the bakery.

“I can see why you wanted a buffet,” Yuuri says, his voice wry. “Are single-serving restaurants not your style?”

Victor swallows the last bite of a samosa and shakes his head again. “Too expensive, and they’re very judgmental,” he says. “Olive Garden might _say_ they do unlimited pasta, but they don’t like it when you take them up on it.”

Yuuri can only imagine.

“Do you eat out a lot?” Yuuri asks.

Victor swallows a mouthful of dhal. “Every now and again,” he replies. “Mostly with Minako, though. Eating at a restaurant by myself always feels lonely. So I’m glad you were available. I would’ve just stayed home and ordered takeout otherwise.”

“…do takeout places get judgmental too?”

Victor licks some sauce off his lips and grins. “Takeout places _love_ me,” he says. “I tip very well, especially if they don’t ask questions.”

Yuuri’s not proud of the times he pretended there were other people in his apartment when the pizza guy came. He’s also not really proud of how much attention he’s paying to Victor’s lips.

Victor gradually demolishes all three plates to Yuuri’s one, and gets up for another. “You should try the samosas, they’re great,” he says.

They are, as it turns out. Crispy on the outside, but the potatoes and peas on the inside are soft and flavorful, if a little hot.

Victor waves off Yuuri’s attempt to pay for half the bill. “I dragged you out here, I owe you,” he says. “Without you I’d be eating pizza in front of the TV and hoping someone would die soon so I’d have more work to do.”

Yuuri doesn’t know which to focus on more: the morbidity of the last part or wondering how many pizzas that would have been.

“I didn’t peg you for a workaholic,” Yuuri says.

“I don’t have much of a social life, or really any hobbies,” Victor says with a shrug. “Most of my recreational money goes towards food. Work fills up the empty hours, and it’s relaxing, too. The dead are easy to work with.”

As they walk to the car, Yuuri says, “I’m surprised you don’t have a social life. You’re so friendly.”

Victor gives a thin smile. “Not everyone is as receptive as you,” he says. “But Minako’s a good friend. I can’t bother her every night, though.”

Yuuri resists the urge to brag about how _he_ has a friend now who thinks he’s cool and managed to take fifteen selfies together in a ten-minute span before going back to work. Would Victor and Phichit get along? Maybe not, since Phichit didn’t seem to like him when Yuuri mentioned him. But it’s nice to imagine.

The ride back to the apartment building is pleasant, with more light conversation and a generally content vibe. It’s so _easy,_ being around Victor. Comfortable. Almost warm. Yuuri kind of hopes Victor thinks the same way about him.

Victor carries his bakery haul up through the elevator, still not needing any help. They say their goodbyes at the outdoor hallway connecting their apartments, and Yuuri suddenly remembers something.

“Wait!” Yuuri calls out. 

Victor stops and looks back over his shoulder. “What is it?” he asks.

“I keep forgetting to tell you--thank you for the ride that time,” Yuuri says. “And for dinner.”

Victor smiles. “Nonsense, it was my pleasure,” he says. “It’s good to have company, and you’re an excellent one.”

“Um, you too, thanks,” Yuuri says in a completely coherent manner.

Once he’s inside, Yuuri flops down on the couch to rest his still-sore feet. Between Phichit, Victor, and a free dinner, today was pretty good.

\---

The next morning, while Yuuri’s mixing the batter for a key lime pie and Mila’s frosting a tray of cupcakes, Yuuri asks, “So do _you_ know Victor Nikiforov?”

Mila frowns and keeps frosting. “Not really,” she says. “Why do you ask?”

“He’s my neighbor, and I’ve been spending some time with him, but Phichit seemed kind of cagey when I asked about him,” Yuuri says. Mixing batter can be a very relaxing activity. You can let your thoughts drift. Lately, Yuuri’s thoughts have been drifting towards Victor.

“I just see him around every once in a while,” Mila says. “He doesn’t really get along with anyone, except maybe Minako. You’ve been hanging out with him?” Her attention is still mostly on the frosting, but she sounds a little disbelieving.

“We had dinner yesterday,” Yuuri says. It’d be weird to say _“he asked me out”_ , right?

Mila’s pastry bag drops from her hand for a second before she catches it. “He invited you over for dinner?” she asks, with an alarmed look on her face.

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, we went out,” he says. “To this Indian buffet place. Man, he can really put away samosas.”

Her expression relaxes, but she still looks a little wary. “Well, so long as you know what you’re doing,” she says. “Pass me the crickets, will ya?”

“The--what?”

Mila gestures at a small plastic box on a shelf a few feet away from him. He’d assumed it was full of candied almonds or something. When he picks it up and opens it, though, he realizes that it’s candied crickets. Well. Okay.

He hands it over to Mila. He must have a weird expression on his face, because she laughs. “Never heard of a cricket lick-it?” she says.

“No,” Yuuri says. “I have not.”

“These aren’t really like that anyway. Same principle, though.” She pops one into her mouth and offers him the box. He declines. She shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she says.

“…why do we have those?” Yuuri asks, looking at the box with a mixture of curiosity and alarm.

“Special order,” Mila replies. “Garnish for this batch of cupcakes. It’s like how people put chocolate chips on top, but with crickets.”

She starts to arrange the crickets on top of the icing of each cupcake in an artistic fashion. Yuuri watches for a few moments before returning to his own work.

When his shift ends, Yuuri leaves through the employee exit again and back onto the street. There’s Victor on the crosswalk--he waves while he walks, and Yuuri decides to stop for a minute to say hi.

“We keep running into each other,” Victor says with a grin, once he’s on the bakery’s side of the road. “Getting off work?”

Yuuri nods. “Hey, have you ever eaten candied crickets?” he asks.

Victor raises an eyebrow. “Can’t say that I have,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

“There was a special order for cupcakes today, and they had candied crickets as a garnish,” Yuuri replies. “My coworker seemed to think it was pretty normal.”

“Well, everyone has different tastes,” Victor says.

“I guess so.”

Yuuri’s about to ask if Victor has any dinner plans when a car skids down the road. He wouldn’t pay that much attention to it, but--there’s a man on the crosswalk--

The car swerves, and crashes head-on into a street lamp. The driver must not have been wearing a seatbelt, because the front window shatters as he also crashes head-on into a street lamp.

Yuuri can almost hear the crunch of bone as the man’s forehead is pulverized.

Yuuri’s frozen, unable to take a step or even say anything. Victor, though, immediately pulls out his cell phone and dials 911.

After Victor finishes the call, Yuuri finally finds his voice. “Oh my god,” he says weakly. “That just happened.”

“Yes, it did,” Victor says. He stares at the scene for a few moments before looking back at Yuuri. “Are you feeling all right?” he asks.

“Better than _he’s_ feeling,” Yuuri replies, unable to look away. 

Victor gives a small laugh. “That’s one way of thinking about it,” he says.

“I guess this means you’ll have to go back to work soon,” Yuuri says. He remembers what Victor said about people not dying on a 9-to-5 schedule.

Victor shakes his head. “No, the police are going to want to look at this one,” he says. “It’ll probably stay in the morgue for at least a day. But if the driver’s family wants a funeral, I’ll likely be given the job. There’s another embalmer where I work, but he’s not as good at facial reconstruction, and this one looks like it’ll need that.”

“You’re very calm about this,” Yuuri says. Which makes sense, but. It still seems kind of surreal.

“We’re not close enough to the body to see the details, and besides, I’ve seen worse,” Victor says. “That’s one thing about working with dead bodies--you’ve _always_ seen worse.” He stares out at the scene again. “Still, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how quickly it happens,” he says. “What little time it takes for a person to be reduced to meat and bone.”

Sirens start to ring out. Yuuri doesn’t know what good an ambulance could do, but maybe it’s protocol or something.

Victor peers at him. “You look a little pale,” he says. “Do you need to sit down? I can take you inside.”

The people coming out of the nearby buildings to look are starting to form a crowd. Yuuri shakes his head. “No, I’ll just go home,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

“If you’re sure. Be careful.”

Yuuri does start feeling a little better as he walks. Maybe not having it in view helps. He’s never seen a dead body before, much less one that died in such a gory fashion. He wonders how long it took Victor to get used to it.

He sort of, kind of, somewhat wonders if he’d get used to it too if he spent more time with Victor.

But right now he just needs to get home and rest his feet and probably order takeout or something. He’ll think about Victor tomorrow.

And probably the day after that, too, and the day after that. Victor’s really nice. And he has a nice smile.

Yeah, Yuuri likes living here.

Even if the guy he probably has a crush on makes a living from people dying here.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been a few weeks since Yuuri moved here, and he still hasn’t seen Minako’s office.

So he’s simultaneously surprised, relieved, and worried when during one of his breaks, Minako sticks her head in the door and says, “Hey, Yuuri, do you mind staying after work for a few minutes?”

“Um, that’s fine,” Yuuri says. “Do you need something?”

Minako gestures behind her. “Just come to my office when you’re done,” she says. “Don’t worry, it’s not about work. You’re doing fine there. You’re doing _great_ there. Keep it up with the carrot cakes.” And she vanishes as she withdraws, leaving mild confusion and the faint smell of rosemary in her wake.

Yuuri looks at Phichit, who’s also on break. “Does she do that a lot?” he asks.

Phichit shrugs. “Not to me,” he says. “I don’t even _do_ carrot cakes.”

Yuuri’s not _that_ worried. Well, a little. Kind of. Maybe more than a little? There isn’t a whole lot in his life _besides_ work right now, so he’s not sure what Minako wants to talk to him about. 

He finishes work a little earlier than he thought, and heads to the back hallway. There’s not much in it besides doors--the breakroom, the employee restroom, a broom closet, and an old-looking oak door with a small tarnished bronze plaque reading OFFICE. He’s about to knock on the door when it suddenly opens, revealing a youngish Asian man who almost bumps into him. Yuuri steps back, startled, and says, “Oh, sorry.” 

The man stares at him with impassive eyes over a facemask. He gives a brief nod, and exits without a word.

Once Yuuri’s relatively sure he’s not in anyone else’s way, he enters the office. It’s…not very office-y. Well, the basics are there: desk, swivel chair, tall bookshelves, a small couch presumably for visitors, a file cabinet. But the books on the shelves look old and hand-bound, and they’re interspersed with jars of dried plants, crusted candleholders, crystals and stones of various sizes and colors, a rather alarming bird skeleton, and other assorted weird things. The file cabinet gets to Z about three-quarters down and the remaining levels are labeled in symbols Yuuri doesn’t recognize. The desk is half-covered with leathery notebooks, an empty hourglass, a cardboard box of medical supplies, and a jar of water. One of the walls has a spice rack. And the whole room smells strongly of rosemary. It would feel very New Age if it didn’t feel very, very old.

Minako’s sitting at the desk. “Come on, sit down,” she says, gesturing at the couch. It has a paisley pattern. With lizards.

Yuuri sits, but he can’t help looking around at the décor. “I didn’t figure you for, uh, this,” he says.

Minako snorts. “People have layers,” she says. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Victor.”

“…what about him?” Yuuri asks, not sure he likes where this is going.

“He’s a good guy, and he could use a friend,” Minako says. She gives him a pointed look. _“More_ than a friend, I don’t know.”

“Um,” Yuuri says. “I wasn’t--”

Minako rests her chin in her hand. “Look, he’s lonely and you’re convenient,” she says. “Try not to take advantage of that.”

“…I did kinda wonder why he was so friendly,” Yuuri admits. “Not sure I like being called ‘convenient’, though.”

“You’re new here, you live next door to him, you work at a place he goes to a lot, and you get off work about the same time he usually shows up,” Minako says. “You’re about as convenient to him as they get.”

Well, when you put it that way. But when you think about it… “Doesn’t that mean he’s convenient to me, too?” Yuuri asks. “Since all those apply the other way around.”

Minako blinks, then gives a wry smile. “What, you’ll take advantage of each other?” she asks. “Whatever, just remember that if he comes crying to me I control your paycheck.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

When he leaves, he’s sort of disappointed that he doesn’t see Victor around. Maybe Victor’s budget can’t handle buying enough pastry to feed a decently sized party more than a few times a week. Maybe someone’s face got smashed in extra hard and he has to do overtime.

Maybe Victor’s kind of a weird choice for a crush.

Whatever. Layers. Yuuri heads home for another night of takeout.

\---

It’s only a couple lines, but Yuuri practices the script in his head anyway. _Hey, are you…_

It’s been three days since he last saw Victor. Whether that’s because Victor hasn’t been coming to the bakery or because they haven’t entered/exited at the coincidental same time, Yuuri doesn’t know. But at least it’s given him some time to think. _Hey, are you…_

He finally, _finally_ sees Victor again when he gets off work today. Victor’s waiting at the crosswalk, arms full of bags and boxes again; Yuuri doesn’t _run,_ but he walks a little faster than usual as he calls out, “Hey, Victor!”

Victor turns around and grins. “Hello, Yuuri!” he says. “Just finishing work?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, nodding, and internally takes a deep breath. “Hey, are you busy right now?” he asks. “I know this restaurant you might like, and I thought I’d ask if you wanted to get dinner again.”

“I am completely free,” Victor says, shaking his head. “What kind of restaurant?”

“It’s this breakfast buffet in the neighborhood where I used to live,” Yuuri replies. “It’s not technically vegetarian, but there’s a lot of stuff there that doesn’t have meat in it, and it’s pretty good. Sound okay?”

Victor beams. “That sounds great!” he says. “Can you give directions? I can leave my boxes in the back seat again, they won’t melt this time either.”

Yuuri almost feels like he’s showing off his deep knowledge of the city while they drive, since Victor’s never been to the area before. It’s very slightly thrilling to know something he doesn’t. Of course, Yuuri’s just as clueless in the area where Victor lives, and he lives there too. But it’s nice anyway.

“There it is,” Yuuri says once they get within eyesight, pointing at a smallish building in between a laundromat and a nail salon. It doesn’t look like much, but nothing in this neighborhood looks like much. Suddenly Yuuri doesn’t feel as proud to be familiar with the area.

They park the car in a dinky parking lot and go inside. This time, the hostess is polite and cheerful to both of them, directing them to a table with no hint of strain in her expression. Yuuri wonders if that would change if Victor ate here a few more times.

The restaurant has a warm and friendly vibe to it, with clean floors and only a few tables open. The food counters are just as Yuuri remembers them--packed with carbohydrates and grease and probably not all that healthy for breakfast. Eating here was never great for his waistline.

Yuuri doesn’t glance back at Victor while he’s getting his own food. He kind of wants it to be a surprise.

Yuuri returns to their table with blueberry pancakes, bacon, maple syrup on both the pancakes and the bacon, scrambled eggs, and a glass of orange juice. Victor returns with blueberry pancakes, regular pancakes, regular waffles with whipped cream, scrambled eggs, hash browns, biscuits, toast, a cheese omelet, five packets of strawberry jam, the contents of half a maple syrup bottle, a glass of orange juice, a glass of grape juice, and a bowl of oatmeal he gets on a second trip.

It’s enough to make someone on the Atkins diet cry.

“Vegetarianism and healthy diets aren’t related at all, are they,” Yuuri says, eyeing the overstuffed plates on Victor’s side of the table.

“Not even remotely,” Victor says brightly.

Before he starts, Yuuri asks, “What do you usually have for breakfast? I hope this isn’t a repeat or anything.” He usually has cereal. Quick to put together and easy to inhale before running out the door to go to work at an ungodly hour.

“Oh, my breakfast is usually pretty light,” Victor says. “I don’t start getting hungry until later in the day. So I don’t often eat these things, no.” He cuts off a portion of syrup-drenched pancake and starts eating.

Watching Victor eat is just as fascinating as it was last time. He’s not messy at all, just methodical. Food disappears at a constant rate. 

“How do you stay fit if you eat like that all the time?” Yuuri asks. Not that he’s been paying attention to Victor’s body or anything.

Victor swallows the last of a pancake. “I have a very good metabolism,” he says. “And there’s a gym not far from the apartment building.”

“I wish I had a metabolism like that,” Yuuri says with a sigh. “I gain weight easily. At the bakery, we’re allowed to take stuff home with us if it didn’t sell that day, but I never do. I don’t need an extra cake every day in my life.”

“My metabolism has its downsides,” Victor says. “Unfortunately, my job doesn’t let me take anything home with me. It wouldn’t taste very good anyway.” His sigh is more on the melodramatic side.

“…I can imagine,” Yuuri says, trying not to.

Yuuri finally starts on his own food. The blueberry pancakes are as sweet as he remembers; half the stuff at this place could qualify for dessert, honestly. Maple syrup on bacon isn’t the healthiest of ideas, but it’s still delicious, and it’s not like _he’s_ on a diet either. 

Anyway, there’s something he wants to talk about.

“Minako says I’m convenient to you,” Yuuri says, glancing up at Victor from his pancakes.

Victor’s fork stops halfway to his mouth, the skewered slice of waffle threatening to drip syrup on the plate. “That’s a change of subject,” he says. “Do you agree?”

Yuuri shrugs. “I wanted to know what you thought about that,” he says.

Victor lowers his fork back onto the plate. The syrup oozes back into the rest of the waffle. “I can’t say I’m not grateful that we keep running into each other,” he says. “I like that coincidence is on my side for once. Does it bother you that our relationship is built on us happening to cross paths?”

“I think she meant that you don’t have a lot of friends so you latch onto someone who happens to be available at the same time you are,” Yuuri says. “She told me not to--” He finger-quotes. “--‘take advantage’ of you’.”

Victor stifles a laugh behind his hand. “Tell her I’m a grown boy and I can make my own decisions,” he says. “What do _you_ think about it?”

“I told her you’re convenient to me, too,” Yuuri says. “Although I think I have more friends than you do.” Does Minako count as a friend? Well, there’s Phichit, and he gets along pretty well with Mila, and the other baker Leo and the other cashiers Guang-Hong and Kenjirou, and in theory he could probably call Yuuko from back home if he wanted to talk to her. So that’s probably more than Victor.

“Then we’re even,” Victor says. He lifts his fork back up. The syrup has congealed into the waffle. “Eat your pancakes before they go cold.”

Yuuri tries eating slowly, so he won’t finish too much earlier than Victor does. He learned last time that it’s sort of awkward just sitting there while Victor’s on his third plate. Maybe that’s why Victor doesn’t eat out with Minako very often.

Eventually, it’s time for the bill, and Yuuri manages to fend off Victor’s attempt to pay for this one too. “You did it last time,” Yuuri reminds him. “I’m not poor, you know. Or do you think Minako’s stingy with her paychecks?”

“Fine, fine,” Victor says, putting his hands up in submission. “Though I probably do make more money than you. Funeral homes charge more for their services than bakeries.”

“We live in the same apartment building, though,” Yuuri points out. “If you make more money, wouldn’t you live somewhere more expensive?”

Victor unlocks the car doors, and they both get inside. “That’s a matter of location,” he says. “It’s easier to be close to Minako. She’s a very helpful person.”

Yuuri thinks about what Mila said, that Minako does “consulting”. And there was that man he ran into who was leaving Minako’s office. Maybe she’s like an in-person advice column. Does Victor need that a lot? He seems pretty put-together, even if he doesn’t have many friends. Then again, maybe that’s _because_ of Minako.

It’d be rude to ask, though, so Yuuri doesn’t mention it.

Back at the apartment building, Yuuri tries phase two of his slightly embarrassing plan.

“So I was thinking, it’s kind of awkward relying on coincidence to see each other,” Yuuri says. “Can I get your phone number?” _Smooth._

“Sure!” Victor says. He pulls out his own phone. “Give me yours and I’ll text you.”

Yuuri does, and a few seconds later his phone dings. He unlocks it to find a message that just says _:)_.

“Cute,” he says, trying not to laugh.

Victor beams. Yuuri has a vague fantasy that he’s thinking _Look who’s talking._

Yuuri fills in the contact info and puts his phone back in his pocket. “That’ll be a lot easier,” he says.

Victor nods. “My work schedule is usually unpredictable anyway, so I’ll text you when I have time,” he says. Is it Yuuri’s imagination that he looks a little excited?

“Looking forward to it,” Yuuri says. “All right, I’ll see you around. Or hear from you, I guess.” He waves goodbye.

“Same here,” Victor says, following suit. They go into their respective apartments and close the door.

Maybe Minako’s right; it’s a very convenient relationship. Yuuri barely has to work at it at all. But it’s nice to have something easy, and Victor probably thinks so too.

Yuuri’s phone dings. He unlocks it to find that Victor’s sent a selfie with a slice of apple pie and the caption _Never too early for dessert right?_

With no one else around, Yuuri doesn’t have to stifle his laugh. ‘Easy’ isn’t always the same as ‘normal’.

That’s one of the pies he made today. He hopes Victor likes it.

\---

Yuuri’s break doesn’t coincide with Phichit’s today. Between his choices of “stare at the walls” and “utilize new possible activity”, he picks up his phone and sends a text.

**Yuuri  
** 10:15 AM  
_I’m on break and I felt like texting you. Are you at work? I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy_

**Victor  
** 10:16 AM  
_I’m at work but it’s fine! I’m at my desk right now doing paperwork. Worst part of the job, so boring :(_

**Yuuri  
** 10:16 AM  
_So the rest of the job is fun? The dead bodies stuff?_

**Victor  
** 10:17 AM  
_It’s not boring! Very satisfying. I like doing something I’m good at_

**Yuuri  
** 10:17 AM  
_I know what you mean. Baking lots of stuff all at once is hard, but I always feel good once it’s all done and I’ve made something people will enjoy_

**Victor  
** 10:18 AM  
_I enjoy it too :)_

10:24 AM  
_I’ll send you a picture when I’m in my work clothes, they’re the height of fashion_

**Yuuri  
** 10:24 AM  
_You don’t wear a suit? That’s what I usually see you wear_

Come to think of it, the only time he’s seen Victor not wearing a suit was that first time when he moved in. 

**Victor  
** 10:25 AM  
_Suits are for looking professional. Too unsanitary for actual work. Dead people don’t care what color tie you’re wearing_

10:25 AM  
_What do you wear at work?_

Given that Yuuri is _at_ work, this probably counts as “What are you wearing right now?”, but Yuuri’s sure that wasn’t the intention. Pretty sure, anyway.

**Yuuri  
** 10:26 AM  
_What you usually see me wearing, plus an apron and some escaped flour_

**Victor  
** 10:26 AM  
_Stylish :) My job can get messy too. Dead people have a lot of fluids_

**Yuuri  
** 10:27 AM  
_Well, I WAS going to eat lunch after this, but I guess that’s off the table now_

**Victor  
** 10:27 AM  
_I’ve seen some open digestive systems in my day, lots of fluids there too_

**Yuuri  
** 10:27 AM  
_I hate you_

**Victor  
** 10:27 AM  
_:)_

10:28 AM  
_Oh no my boss is back gotta run_

Several hours later, when Yuuri’s off work, he checks his phone to find a new message.

**Victor  
** 2:26 PM  
_Stylish right? ;)_

Attached is a selfie of Victor in green surgical scrubs and an apron, complete with facemask and rubber gloves. He’s winking and making a peace sign.

**Yuuri  
** 4:06 PM  
_Did you take a selfie in a room with a dead body?_

It takes a while longer for Victor to respond this time. Yuuri’s back at home, eating leftover spaghetti, when his phone dings again.

**Victor  
** 5:19 PM  
_She’s unlikely to tattle on me_

**Yuuri  
** 5:20 PM  
_Anyway yeah looking good_

**Victor  
** 5:20 PM  
_:)_

Yuuri’s spaghetti is starting to go cold, but he doesn’t really care.

\---

Yuuri’s phone rings a few nights later, while he’s doing dishes. He quickly wipes off his hands and grabs it from the kitchen table. “Hello?” he says.

It’s Mari. “Hi, Yuuri, are you busy?” she asks.

“No, I was just washing up,” Yuuri says, shaking his head even though she can’t see him. “What’s up?”

Mari exhales. “Vicchan got hit by a car this morning,” she says.

Everything seems very still.

“He’s been at the vet all day, but he passed away an hour ago,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

The last time Yuuri saw Vicchan was a few months ago, when he last visited home. His visits before that were sporadic, mostly on holidays. He hasn’t lived with his parents in years. Vicchan was always happy to see him, though.

Yuuri sits down on the dining chair. Standing doesn’t really feel good right now.

“Yuuri?” Mari asks, after a few more seconds of silence on his end.

“I’m here,” Yuuri says, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. “Thanks for letting me know, Mari.”

“Are you okay? It’s been kind of rough for us too. I can talk if you want.”

“No, it’s, I’m fine,” Yuuri says, stumbling through his words. “I’ll talk to you later, Mari. Bye.” He ends the call.

He didn’t mean to be so brusque with her. It’s just not a good idea to talk right now. If he does, he’ll just end up crying, and that’s embarrassing. He’ll feel worse, and Mari will feel worse, and he’ll feel bad that Mari’s feeling worse, and he wouldn’t be able to talk through the tears anyway. So it’s better not to try. 

His phone dings.

**Victor  
** 6:03 PM  
_I just got home from work and I am BEAT_

6:03 PM  
_I had to go to a funeral home in another city, they had an emergency case and they asked me to come because I’m the best at facial reconstruction in the state_

6:04 PM  
_Does that sound like I’m bragging_

6:04 PM  
_I’m bragging_

6:05 PM  
_Anyway how are you_

Yuuri doesn’t really want to respond.

But texting is easier than speaking, and maybe it’d be nice to talk to someone.

**Yuuri  
** 6:08 PM  
_I’m okay. Do you have to leave the city a lot?_

**Victor  
** 6:09 PM  
_Once a month or so. There are plenty of embalmers in the state, and some of them are really good_

6:09 PM  
_But if someone’s missing half their head and their family wants an open casket wake then I’m your man_

**Yuuri  
** 6:10 PM  
_That happens once a month?_

**Victor  
** 6:10 PM  
_Around the state yeah_

6:11 PM  
_People want to remember their loved ones_

6:11 PM  
_Sometimes their loved ones didn’t win the lottery in the pleasant death department_

6:12 PM  
_Everyone deserves a chance to say goodbye_

**Yuuri  
** 6:13 PM  
_My dog was hit by a car today_

**Victor  
** 6:15 PM  
_Should I come over_

**Yuuri  
** 6:16 PM  
_No it’s fine_

He shouldn’t have said that. Why did he say that? Yuuri rubs his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t be talking to Victor if he wants to avoid the subject of death.

**Victor  
** 6:16 PM  
_If you’re sure_

6:17 PM  
_Is it okay to talk about dogs? I always wanted one_

**Yuuri  
** 6:19 PM  
_Yeah go ahead_

**Victor  
** 6:19 PM  
_:)_

6:20 PM  
_When I was a kid I had the name and breed picked out and everything. My family couldn’t afford it though. I spent a lot of time moping around pet stores looking pathetic_

**Yuuri  
** 6:21 PM  
_What name and breed_

**Victor  
** 6:21 PM  
_Makkachin, standard poodle_

6:21 PM  
_I wanted something big and fluffy_

**Yuuri  
** 6:22 PM  
_My dog was a miniature poodle_

6:22 PM  
_His name was Vicchan_

**Victor  
** 6:23 PM  
_Sounds cute :)_

**Yuuri  
** 6:23 PM  
_Why don’t you get one now_

**Victor  
** 6:24 PM  
_My schedule’s too uneven :( And sometimes I’m gone all night, I don’t want to leave a dog in an empty apartment for too long_

**Yuuri  
** 6:25 PM  
_That’s too bad_

**Victor  
** 6:25 PM  
_I really like my job though! Life’s not so bad. Plus I made a friend lately :)_

**Yuuri  
** 6:25 PM  
_:)_

He feels a lot better now. Not perfect, but better. It’s a good thing Victor texted; otherwise he’d just be sitting alone trying not to let his head overfill. 

Yuuri wonders if Victor is ever like that. 

Yuuri wonders a lot about Victor, actually, ranging from _what’s your favorite food_ to _any fetishes I should know about?_ to _wait are those connected_ , but mostly he wants to know if Victor’s happy. He _seems_ to be, but Yuuri knows a thing or two about seeming. 

Maybe he’ll get to find out soon. 

**Victor  
** 6:26 PM  
_So, guess how many naked old people I’ve seen in the past month_

…maybe later. 


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri usually spends his days off doing very little. Sleeping, watching cooking shows, silently critiquing cooking shows, sometimes vocally critiquing cooking shows--he hopes his neighbors don’t hear him--idly thinking about Victor, checking Phichit’s Instagram, that sort of thing. Not _boring,_ but uneventful.

Yesterday Phichit posted a picture of Yuuri passed out in the breakroom with flour on his face. _#workinghardorhardlyworking,_ it had said. 

Yuuri’s grateful Victor doesn’t have Instagram.

In any case, _today,_ he’s decided, he’s going to actually get out and see the area he lives in. Exploration! Trying new things!

…seeing if a bookstore has any interesting cookbooks!

The store is called _Rapsodie Used Books,_ if the bronze curlicue letters on the front window are any indication. It’s a lot cleaner than Yuuri thought a used bookstore would be. All the shelves are clearly labeled and well organized, and there’s no musty smell. The front window lets in plenty of light. It’s practically classy.

While he’s glancing around the tops of the shelves to see if there’s a cooking section, he hears a small _mrow_ by his feet. Looking down, he sees a fluffy white cat looking up at him expectantly.

Yuuri’s never had a cat, but he likes them well enough. He leans down and pats its head. It closes its eyes and purrs happily.

“She’s very friendly,” says a deep voice from behind him. Yuuri straightens up and turns around to find a tall, slightly muscular blond man with a stubbly mustache and an amused expression. His button-down shirt has a little nametag saying CHRISTOPHE. “Usually she doesn’t zero in on someone the moment they enter the store, though.”

“I don’t mind,” Yuuri says, smiling. The cat mrowls at him again. He leans down and runs his hand across her back, which seems to please her.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Christophe asks. He has some strong cologne on; the musky smell is practically coming off him in waves.

“Oh, uh, cooking books?” Yuuri says. The cat butts her head against his hand; he skritches her behind the ears. She purrs louder.

“Right this way,” Christophe says, holding out his arm and pointing towards the back of the store. “I’ll show you.” He picks up the cat, who stops purring momentarily but settles into Christophe’s arms and resumes.

“Are you new here?” Christophe asks, while Yuuri follows him down the aisle. “I haven’t seen you around before. Most of our customers are locals.”

“I moved here about a month ago,” Yuuri says. “I work at the Okukawa Bakery, so I guess I’ll be a local soon.”

They arrive at a shelf that doesn’t seem to be _entirely_ cooking books, but has a lot of them, in varying states of age. “Oh? I go there sometimes, I haven’t seen you there either,” Christophe says.

“I work in the back,” Yuuri says. “So you might’ve eaten something I made.”

The cat makes a _mrrp_ noise. Christophe strokes her head. “I must have, if your food is half as sweet as you,” he says, winking.

The cologne seems even heavier now. It smells really nice, though. Was the store’s heating always this high? Any potential response Yuuri can think of gets stuck in his throat. Suddenly, a cough comes from the front of the store. He looks back to see a brown-haired man at the register, who looks half amused, half resigned.

Christophe looks over at the man too. “Sorry, babe, just instinct,” he calls out. The heavy smell suddenly dissipates, and Yuuri feels like he can breathe again. Christophe returns his gaze to Yuuri. “Anyway, I’ll let you get to it,” he says. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Yeah, I will,” Yuuri manages. Christophe leaves with a little wave. After a moment, Yuuri looks back at the books again.

Absurdly, he thinks, _I’m really glad Victor doesn’t wear anything like that._

Some of the cooking books are clearly unwanted castaways from recent years, and therefore uninteresting, but the older ones that look like they came from someone’s basement are more intriguing. Yuuri grabs a yellowed 50s cookbook (baking with aspic!), a mildly torn collection of early-1800s French dessert recipes (so much cream), and a history of Japanese sweets (maybe he could convince Minako to try something with red bean jam). A pretty good haul, all told.

The man at the register is all smiles, though he doesn’t seem to wear as much cologne as Christophe. While Yuuri pays for his books, the cat reappears to rub up against his leg and meow plaintively. 

He pets her again, despite being mildly concerned that this will summon Christophe.

Fortunately, it doesn’t, and he leaves with his purchases free of any overbearing scent. _Where to next?_ The crisp fall weather isn’t quite brisk enough to make being outside difficult, so he just sort of wanders around. 

It’s a bustling little district, with a shopping area packed with restaurants and stores and not a chain name in sight. Everything’s probably locally owned. 

On a whim, he stops at a coffee shop. The baked goods probably aren’t as good as the ones in the bakery, but then again, the coffee at the bakery probably isn’t as good as the ones here.

The shop-- _Serenade,_ says the wooden sign above the door--is actually pretty busy. Almost all the tables are full. Yuuri hopes there’ll still be one once he gets his order. If there isn’t, though, he can walk outside, it’s fine. Mostly fine. Okay, he hopes there’s a table.

After standing in line after a few other customers, Yuuri finally gets to an open register. The barista behind it, a cheerful-looking black-haired young woman with a nametag reading SARA, asks, “What’ll you have?” in a very customer-friendly voice.

“Uh, small mocha and a blueberry muffin for Yuuri, please,” Yuuri says. The baked goods shelf is pretty empty. Looks like the breakfast crowd got here first.

Sara nods and rings up his order, scribbling SM on a paper cup and handing it to the other barista, a brown-haired young man whose nametag reads MICHELE. Yuuri wonders how it’s pronounced. It’d be rude to ask.

Muffin in hand, Yuuri loiters awkwardly around the counter with the people who were in front of him. He recognizes one of them--the Asian man with the facemask who came out of Minako’s office that one time. He gives off an aura of untouchability, not helped by most of his face being covered. 

Michele says, “Medium Americano for Seung-Gil,” as he puts a paper cup down on the counter. The Asian man--Seung-Gil, apparently--takes it and leaves in one motion. No table for him, perfect. Though Yuuri kind of wants to see if he’ll try to drink through his mask.

A door behind the counter opens, revealing a sandy-haired young man carrying a large box. “Got the restock!” he says with a grin, and puts the box behind the baked goods shelf, opening it and pulling out smaller boxes of pastry. 

Sara smiles at him in return. Michele doesn’t.

“Large caramel latte for Yuri,” he says, in a significantly grumpier voice than previously. Yuuri’s about to correct him when a blond boy in a leopard-print hoodie grabs the cup off the counter and stalks to one of the two remaining tables, carrying a cheese Danish with him.

Well, people can have the same name, it’s normal. Yuuri shifts on his feet while he waits for his own order.

Eventually, Michele says, “Small mocha for Yuuri,” and Yuuri takes it, relieved that one of the tables is still open. He grabs it before anyone gets any ideas.

As expected, the drink’s pretty good but the muffin’s pretty mediocre. Edible, though, so he enjoys it while he lets his mind wander.

After a few bites, he notices Yuri staring at him from over his latte. More glaring than staring, really. Death glaring.

_Did I do something?_ Yuuri wonders while he chews his muffin. _Is he mad there’s someone with the same name as him? Is he old enough to drink coffee, anyway?_

Soon after Yuuri swallows, Yuri says, “Yuuri _Katsuki?”_ like he’s spitting out a dirty word.

“Um,” Yuuri says. “Yes?”

Yuri makes a _tch_ noise. “So _you’re_ the guy Victor won’t shut up about,” he says.

Someone knows Victor and is willing to bring him up in conversation without being prompted? _Score!_ “Victor Nikiforov?” Yuuri asks. “We know each other, yeah. Um, do you know him too?”

“We work at the same place,” Yuri says. His glare hasn’t faded. “I caught him texting you when he was supposed to be working.”

“Oh, uh, sorry about that,” Yuuri says, internally wincing. “I said he didn’t have to respond if he was busy.”

Yuri scoffs. “Like he was gonna turn you down,” he says. “He keeps talking about his _new friend._ It’s disgusting.”

“More disgusting than draining dead people’s fluids?” Yuuri asks, taking a sip of his mocha. He’s done some completely casual research on modern embalming. He’s mostly inured to it now. Mostly.

If anything, the glare intensifies. _“Whatever,”_ Yuri spits, and proceeds to stuff his face with his Danish. 

Yuri’s wearing thick gloves. They’re getting awfully sticky.

“You look a little young to be working in a funeral home,” Yuuri says. He’s getting the impression it’s easy to rile up this Yuri, and honestly, it’s kind of fun.

“I’m an intern,” Yuri says, glowering as he wipes the residue off his gloves with a paper napkin.

“…I didn’t know funeral homes did internships.”

“I don’t have to tell you my life story,” Yuri snaps, though he hasn’t actually left.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says again. “I was just curious, since Victor doesn’t talk about his job much. But, uh, he talks about me? What kind of stuff does he say?”

“Stupid stuff about how _nice_ you are and shit,” Yuri says. “I told him he should just fuck you already and he wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. So I guess I should thank you for that.”

Yuuri doesn’t choke on his drink. Mostly because he wasn’t drinking at the time. “Um,” he says.

“God, whatever, I don’t even care,” Yuri says, standing up and dropping the used paper napkin on the table. “Go be gross together. Doesn’t matter to me.” With his drink, he stalks off through the exit.

_If it doesn’t matter, why’d you bring it up in the first place?_ Yuuri doesn’t ask.

After a few moments, he takes another sip. 

At least this means Victor knows someone besides Minako.

\---

Several days later, Yuuri gets home from work and goes straight to the couch after taking his shoes off. Ahhh. So relaxing. He shouldn’t nap, though; waking up at an ungodly hour means going to sleep earlier than most people, and napping too close to that will just make it harder to fall asleep later. So probably he should go make dinner instead of staying where he is. Probably. Any second now.

His phone rings. Yuuri left it on the kitchen counter, so he has to extricate himself from the couch after all, yay. The caller ID says Victor, which isn’t actually that surprising, given that Phichit’s probably still at work. He picks up the phone and swipes to accept the call. “Hello?” he says.

“Hello, Yuuri!” Victor replies, slightly tinny from the speaker. “Did you just get back from work? This is when you usually do, right?”

“Yeah, I just got home,” Yuuri says. He leans against the counter. “What about you?”

“It’s my day off, so I’ve been home all day,” Victor says. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t required to take them. Work is much more engaging than daytime TV.”

“I know what you mean,” Yuuri says. Half the reason he’s decided to get to know the area is to just have something to _do_ for once. “So what’s up?”

“I’m bored and lonely. Want to come over for pizza and a movie?”

“…yes,” Yuuri says. “Yes, I do.”

He swears he can hear the grin on Victor’s face. “Great!” Victor says. “Come over whenever you’re ready, I already ordered.”

“All right, I’ll be there in a few,” Yuuri says, ending the call. A good excuse to not have to make dinner tonight, excellent. Also to see Victor’s apartment, which he hasn’t yet. And just be around Victor in general, which is always a plus.

He leaves his apartment and locks it behind him before he goes to Victor’s door, scarcely six feet away. He shivers slightly--the fall weather is catching up fast, and being on an outdoor walkway doesn’t help.

About ten seconds after he knocks on the door, it opens, revealing Victor in the same casual T-shirt and sweatpants he wore when they first met. Maybe not the _exact_ same ones. It’s hard to tell. “Hi, come in!” he says, opening it wider and standing to the side so Yuuri can enter.

Unsurprisingly, Victor’s apartment has the exact same layout as his, or at least it does in the main area. The kitchen is on the same wall, the doors to the bedroom and bathroom are spaced the same, the ceiling has the same light fixtures; there’s even a couch and TV in roughly the same spot. It looks a little more lived-in than Yuuri’s, which makes sense, given that Victor’s been here for years and Yuuri’s only been here a month and a half.

Victor gestures towards the couch. “Go take a seat,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind plain cheese pizza? Or vegetable, but nobody likes vegetable anyway, so I don’t expect that.”

“Cheese is fine,” Yuuri says, sitting down on the very comfortable couch. It sounds like Victor ordered two pizzas for two people. Well, Victor probably counts as like four people.

“Good,” Victor says, sitting down near the other end of the couch. It’d be weird if he sat closer, right? “So, how’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a few days. Our schedules didn’t align, I guess.”

“I guess so,” Yuuri says. “I’ve been all right. Oh, I went out for coffee and I ran into this guy who says he works with you--Yuri?”

Victor winces. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I didn’t even say anything about him,” Yuuri says, eyebrows raised.

“I find it’s better to apologize in advance for anything Yuri does. How bad was it?”

“Not that bad, he insulted you and left,” Yuuri says, carefully avoiding the tail end of the conversation. 

Victor sighs. “That sounds about right,” he says.

“How do funeral homes have internships, anyway?” Yuuri asks. “He looked kind of young to be working at one.”

“His grandfather knows the director, and he’s a hard worker,” Victor says. “It’s more of an apprenticeship. He needs to work on his compassion, but there’s promise. _Why_ he wants to work there, who knows.” Victor shrugs. “Maybe he thinks dealing with the dead is easier than dealing with the living.”

“Is it?” Yuuri asks.

“In some ways, yes, but not always,” Victor replies. “Besides, compassion is important in this business. People want their loved ones to be taken care of, not treated like objects.”

Yuuri’s family has always done cremation. Honestly, the embalming process creeps him the hell out, and he definitely wouldn’t want it to be done to him. But people do it for a reason, he guesses. Also maybe he shouldn’t tell Victor “your career is creepy and I don’t like it”.

“Anyway, enough about my job,” Victor says. Yuuri breathes an internal sigh of relief. “What kind of movie do you want to watch?”

Yuuri shrugs. “I thought you’d have something planned.”

“Well, not everyone has the same interests I do,” Victor says. He gestures towards a DVD shelf next to the TV. Yuuri leans closer to it and discovers that it’s about 20% wacky comedy, 80% terrible bloody horror movies. Well. It’s not actually that surprising.

“You’ve really got a thing for people dying, huh,” Yuuri says, leaning back.

“I assure you, my career choice and my personal tastes are entirely unrelated,” Victor says with a sigh. “I swear, the assumptions people make…in any case, we can find something streaming if nothing looks entertaining.”

“You pick something, it’s fine,” Yuuri says. “If you like it it’ll probably be fun.” The car accident was one thing; gore on a TV screen isn’t real enough to bother him, especially in some cheesy splatterhouse.

“Really? Well, if you’re sure.” Victor leans over, examines the shelf, and pulls out a disc Yuuri doesn’t recognize. Then again, Yuuri doesn’t recognize most of them. The titles are very…descriptive, though, so he gets the gist of it.

As Victor opens the case and puts the disc into the player, the doorbell rings. “That was fast,” Yuuri says, blinking.

“They’re nearby,” Victor says, straightening up before he goes to the door. Yuuri turns around to see. Outside stands a bored-looking teenager in a colorful uniform and hat, carrying two pizza boxes. Victor pays, takes the boxes, and closes the door, putting the boxes on the counter next to him. 

_“Everything’s_ ‘nearby’,” Yuuri says. “The district’s all clustered together.” Getting to know the area might not take very long, really.

“People here like to stay local,” Victor says. He opens the boxes. Yuuri can practically smell the grease from here. “How many slices do you want?”

“Two cheese,” Yuuri says, standing up so he can actually look at it. “I’m guessing you won’t let me pay you back any?”

“Not at all,” Victor says with a grin. “Besides, I’ll be eating most of this.” True to form, when he passes a plate with two slices of cheese to Yuuri, he fills his own until it’s stacked several slices deep. “Want anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

Victor takes two glasses out of a cabinet and fills them both with water, passing one to Yuuri. Yuuri takes it and his plate and goes back to the couch, Victor joining him soon after.

Victor sits right next to him this time, only a few inches apart, and after he hits PLAY, he places the remote down and puts his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

Yuuri is frozen for a few seconds before he realizes Victor isn’t _doing_ anything; his other hand has a slice of pizza in it and his eyes are focused on the screen. Which is showing a man being chased down an alley by a mysterious dark figure, eventually screaming as the figure jumps on him and the camera cuts to a nearby wall suddenly splattered with an improbable amount of bright red blood while the title rolls.

It is, objectively, the worst movie Yuuri has ever seen.

Everything from the acting to the lighting to the set design is clunky, amateurish, and halfhearted. It doesn’t seem like any effort was put into it at all. Yuuri’s impressed it even got a DVD release. In literally all aspects, it’s just _bad._

It’s also quite entertaining.

Yuuri can kind of see why Victor likes this stuff. Maybe it’s a relief to go from the cold reality of actual death to a ridiculous, mindless parody of it. Or maybe it’s just relaxing to turn your brain off. Eat artery-clogging food and watch something objectively awful.

“For the record, intestines aren’t nearly that stretchy,” Victor says, observing a scene of fake blood-soaked rubbery carnage.

Yuuri chews a slice of greasy pizza. At least watching this stuff with Victor is educational.

The movie’s only about halfway through, from what Yuuri can tell, and Victor’s already eaten most of the two pizzas. Where does he _put_ it all? Yuuri’s finished both his slices and most of his water, and he’s full. Different metabolisms, he guesses. 

Onscreen, the characters are having a brief respite from the murders. Yuuri can tell the killer will jump in the moment they relax, but for now he can enjoy the actors try to speak like actual people who aren’t reading cue cards from behind the camera.

Victor shifts position slightly and softly kisses Yuuri’s neck.

Victor’s hair is tickling Yuuri’s jawline. Yuuri glances down, not quite processing it. Victor’s eyes are looking back up at him, bright blue and very slightly nervous.

“Was that all right?” Victor asks.

After a moment, Yuuri nods. 

Victor nuzzles against Yuuri’s jawline. “Can I do it again?” he asks.

Nodding makes Victor’s hair slide against his skin.

Victor kisses Yuuri’s neck again, a little higher this time. “Can I kiss you properly?” he murmurs.

How often does Yuuri have to nod, at this point?

Victor brushes his lips against Yuuri’s, even softer than his neck. Yuuri parts his mouth, absolutely aware that they both taste like pizza, and not particularly caring. Victor slides his tongue inside, the arm around Yuuri’s shoulders pulling Yuuri closer, his other hand moving to cradle the back of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor’s back, scooting over so the few inches of space between them are gone and their legs are flush together.

Victor does indeed taste like pizza. Yuuri decides it’s his favorite flavor.

Eventually, they break apart, Victor pressing one last kiss to the corner of Yuuri’s mouth right after. Their foreheads rest together. “Are we dating?” Yuuri asks. “It kind of feels like we’re dating.”

“I’d like that,” Victor says, nuzzling Yuuri’s cheek.

“Yeah, me too,” Yuuri says. He runs his hand through Victor’s hair. It’s really soft.

Onscreen, the killer has already returned and torn three of the remaining characters into bloody pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri _loves_ living here.

The apartment’s good, the job’s great, he has an actual boyfriend who’s unfairly attractive and really appreciates his cooking, this entire living situation is the best he’s ever had. 

He likes to think all this happiness is transmitting into his baking, like his food is even better now that it’s being made by someone who absolutely adores their life. It sells no matter what, though, so maybe he was just too good to begin with.

Man, he really could’ve used this level of self-confidence when he was in high school.

Even the slowly but increasingly cold weather isn’t enough to dampen his spirits. His now-traditional (twice is totally a tradition right) wandering around the district on his day off leads him to a small park, the grass still clinging to green while the fallen leaves are pretty solidly brown from being stepped on so much.

There are more people around than he’d expect given the temperature, but it’s entirely possible he’s not the only happy person in the district. Kids occupy the playground area, a few people are walking their dogs, a few people seem to be walking with no real goal. The three picnic tables are all in use. Two of the people walking are holding hands. Holding hands in the park sounds like the cheesiest thing ever and Yuuri wonders if he could ask Victor about it.

He sits down on one of the benches, another mocha from Serenade in hand, and just people-watches for a while. One person keeps checking her watch. One person is wearing a T-shirt and jeans, what the hell. One person is on his cellphone, speaking a language Yuuri can’t make out from here.

One person is standing in front of him and saying in a deep voice, “Are you Yuuri Katsuki?”

The man is tall and lean, wearing a long dark coat, his black hair styled like a duck tail. He doesn’t look much older than Yuuri, but his expression is on the severe side. Yuuri feels slightly intimidated.

“Um, yes, that’s me,” Yuuri says. “Can I help you with something?”

The man seems to relax a little. “I am Georgi Popovich, one of Victor Nikiforov’s coworkers,” he says. “I thought I’d say hello.”

Yuuri waves his hand. “Hello,” he says.

“I hear you also met Yuri Plisetsky?” Georgi asks. His expression is a little more resigned now.

“Yeah, he’s…he’s something,” Yuuri says. At least Georgi’s been polite so far.

“That he is,” Georgi says. “In any case, I wanted to thank you. Victor’s been much happier lately, particularly these last few days. He hasn’t directly mentioned it, but since he also talks about you frequently, I assumed you were the cause.”

Temperature, what temperature? Yuuri’s feeling pretty warm now. “Thanks,” he says, smiling. “I’m pretty happy too.”

“That being said.” And now he’s back to severe. “Relationships can be tempestuous, and Victor’s never been good at them. Honesty is important. I suggest you remember that.” And he turns around and leaves, coat swishing behind him.

Yuuri wonders if all of Victor’s coworkers are into drama.

Fortunately, _his_ coworkers are nice, reasonable people with sensible attitudes and--

“You’re _dating_ Victor?” Phichit practically screeches in the breakroom.

“…yes?” Yuuri says, a little uncertain why he would need to repeat himself.

Phichit puts his face in his hands. “I should’ve done more,” he says, his voice muffled. “I’m so sorry I failed you, Yuuri.”

“I don’t see how you failed me,” Yuuri says. “Why is everyone so weird about Victor? He’s a nice guy.” Frankly, it’s getting annoying.

Phichit lifts his head up. _“He’s_ weird,” he says. “All the…” He waggles his hand in an unclear gesture. “It’s just not good to spend so much time with him,” he finishes lamely.

Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose. “He’s _fine,_ Phichit,” he says wearily. “The worst I’ve seen him do is make bad jokes during a murder scene.” In fairness, the scene was kind of funny.

“…in a movie, right?” Phichit asks, his voice hesitant.

_“Yes,_ in a movie,” Yuuri says, trying not to snap. He winces. “Sorry, I shouldn’t get loud about it. I just don’t understand why everyone hates him so much.”

“We don’t hate him,” Phichit says. He leans back against the couch, his arms across the top, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to explain.” He exhales. “But if you’re happy around him, then…I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so bad.”

Yuuri smiles. “Thanks, Phichit,” he says. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

“Does Minako know?” Phichit asks, glancing over at him.

“I haven’t told her,” Yuuri says, shaking his head. “Victor might’ve, I don’t know. The last time I talked to her about Victor, she didn’t seem big on the idea of a relationship with him either, and she _likes_ him.”

“Well, it’s not like she’s gonna fire you,” Phichit says.

“I guess that’s true.”

“After all, your cakes are selling really well.”

“…thanks, Phichit.” 

\---

Minako doesn’t fire him.

She just huffs and says, “I’ve never been able to stop Victor from doing anything he really wants to. I’m his friend, not his boss.”

“…you are _my_ boss, though,” Yuuri points out.

“And if I fired you for dating someone I’d be a really terrible one,” she says grimly. “Just be a good boyfriend, okay? Now get back to work, those pies aren’t gonna make themselves.”

\---

Mari’s voice rings with disbelief as she says, “You do _not_ have a boyfriend.”

Yuuri lies down on the couch, his head resting on the armrest, his cellphone at his ear. “Why don’t you believe me?” he says, though he’s not terribly upset.

“Yuuri, the last time you had a boyfriend, you called me every other day asking for advice. I find it hard to believe you could go two whole weeks without a word.”

The last time he had a boyfriend was also the first time he had a boyfriend, technically, barring a couple dates in high school culminating in an impressively disastrous prom night. He’s pretty sure that one doesn’t count. “Maybe I’m more of a mature adult capable of making my own decisions,” he says.

“To me, you’ll always be the little brother who ran away when a classmate asked him out junior year.”

“That was _one time--”_

Mari laughs. “I’m joking, I’m joking,” she says. “So this is a good guy? Actually eats your cooking, unlike the last one?”

The last one was always on weird diets. Sometimes no sugar, sometimes no carbs, sometimes nothing but vegetables and lentils. Whatever it was, it never mixed well with sweets. “I think he eats enough of it to make up for the last guy and then some,” Yuuri says. “He’s kind of a big eater.” Kind of. Just a bit.

“Well, you’ll just have to bring him home sometime so mom can feed him,” she says. “I bet she’d love to show him some high-calorie Katsuki hospitality.”

“Actually, he’s a vegetarian,” Yuuri says. “No fried pork for him, sorry.”

He can hear Mari wince over the phone. “Yikes, that wouldn’t work,” she says. “I don’t think mom’s ever made a vegetarian meal in her life.”

“Maybe if it was, like, tofu katsudon?”

There is a pause while they consider it.

“Yeah, no, that’s heresy,” Mari says.

“I don’t know why I even mentioned it,” Yuuri says. The very thought sends shivers up his spine.

“Anyway, I’m happy for you,” Mari says. “Life’s really looking up for you since you moved, huh.”

Yuuri smiles. “Yeah, it is,” he says. “I’m glad Minako made all this happen.”

Even if Minako’s not quite what he expected, she’s a good boss and he owes her a lot. And she likes Victor, which is a definite thumbs up. 

He just wishes she’d tone down the rosemary.

\---

“Small mocha and a raspberry scone for Yuuri, please.”

“Got it, coming right up.”

“Two large pumpkin spice lattes, a chocolate muffin, a pumpkin cheesecake bar, a croissant, a cinnamon scone, and a piece of chocolate swirl pound cake for--”

“Victor, yes, I know.”

Once they’re at a table, waiting for their drinks, Yuuri says, “They even know you here, huh.”

“I don’t come here often, but I’m told I’m memorable,” Victor says with a wry smile.

Yuuri’s been to Serenade three times now. He kind of hopes they’ll remember him too, but not in the same way as Victor. It’d be nice to be seen as a regular around here. Cement his status as a resident, not just a newbie.

“Hey, are you busy this Sunday?” Yuuri asks.

“What time?”

“Evening, I guess.”

“I should be free then,” Victor says. “Planning anything?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Just hanging out,” he says. “You haven’t seen my apartment since the day I moved here. I wondered if I could show it to you now that it has more than a couple chairs and a box of kitchenware in it.”

“I’d be delighted,” Victor says, smiling.

“Small mocha for Yuuri!”

Yuuri collects his drink and returns. “What’re you doing earlier on Sunday?” he asks as he sits back down.

“Just some work stuff,” Victor says. “I’m usually busy Sunday mornings and early afternoons. Nothing interesting, I just have to pick up some supplies. They don’t do deliveries.”

Yuuri sips his drink. “That sounds pretty inconvenient,” he says.

“Very much so,” Victor says glumly.

“Two large pumpkin spice lattes for Victor.”

At least Michele doesn’t look that grumpy. Wary, maybe, but not as annoyed as he was when Yuuri first came here and that ashy-blond guy brought the pastry restock. 

When Victor brings his drinks back, Yuuri asks him about it.

“Unlike at buffets, I have to pay for everything I buy here,” Victor says, gesturing towards the mass of pastry covering his half of the table. “Even if they don’t like me as a person, they have to respect me business-wise.”

Yuuri suddenly feels slightly guilty for bringing Victor here. All that food isn’t cheap. “You could just, you know, _not_ eat this much,” he says. “This isn’t even lunchtime, it’s a snack.”

“I’m thinking of it as an early lunch,” Victor says airily. “I’ll eat something smaller later.”

“What, like only three sandwiches?”

“…two.”

Yuuri can’t help a short laugh. Victor glares at him, but only in a halfhearted sort of way.

Yuuri takes a bite of his scone. It’s actually a little better than the muffin, but still not as good as the bakery’s. 

As if on cue, Victor says, “Honestly, half the reason I don’t come here often is because the pastry’s much better at Minako’s bakery.”

After swallowing, Yuuri gives a triumphant grin. “I was just thinking that,” he says. “Their stuff isn’t _bad,_ it’s just that the stuff we make is so much better. Mila went to a fancier culinary school than I did and Leo’s family has been in the food business for generations. I think the last guy who worked there was literally classically trained.”

“You went to culinary school?” Victor says, blinking.

“Yeah, did I never mention it?” Yuuri says. “It wasn’t really a school, just a program. I graduated a few years ago.”

Victor folds his hands in front of him, food uncharacteristically forgotten. “You’ve never told me much about yourself,” he says. “Anything interesting?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, not really,” he says. “My family runs a hot spring inn on the other side of the state. I got into baking because of some home ec classes in high school, I did a culinary school program at a community college, I worked a few random boring jobs, now I’m here.”

“I’m sure all that wasn’t _boring,”_ Victor says. “Even if you don’t have any stories about it.”

“I guess not, but it’s not interesting,” Yuuri says with a shrug. “What about you? Anything I should know about?”

“Not dissimilar from yours, honestly,” Victor says. “Though my family lives farther away. My mother works in a diner, my father was a teacher. I became interested in funeral-related careers during high school, so I went to mortuary school after graduating, and then I already mentioned that Minako got me hired here. That’s all, really.”

Yuuri swallows a sip of his mocha. “How’d you get interested in this stuff, anyway?” he asks.

Victor’s smile grows a little strained. “Ah, that’s…a story for another time,” he says. He finally takes a bite out of his croissant, and Yuuri takes that as a cue to change the subject.

He tries to think of a different topic. “Yesterday the bakery got a special order for lavender-rhubarb pie with raspberry leaves and yarrow baked into the crust,” he says eventually. 

“That…does sound unusual, yes,” Victor says, raising an eyebrow. “Who made it?”

“Mila does most of the special orders,” Yuuri says. “The weird thing was, we already had all that stuff. The spice rack in Minako’s office is _really_ extensive.”

Victor swallows a bite of croissant. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says.

They talk for a while longer, enjoying the mediocre pastry and better-than-mediocre coffee. It’s a good day. Pretty much every day is a good day. Everything about Yuuri’s life here is _great._

In retrospect, that line of thinking was just asking for trouble.

\---

The following Sunday.

**Victor**  
11:40 AM  
 _Sorry I’ll be busy today after all_

**Yuuri**  
11:40 AM  
 _That’s fine. Everything okay?_

**Victor**  
11:45 AM  
 _Yeah I’m just busy_

**Yuuri**  
11:45 AM  
 _Do you know when we can reschedule?_

**Victor**  
11:52 AM  
 _No_

12:30 PM  
 _Sorry for being rude_

**Yuuri**  
12:31 PM  
 _Are you sure everything’s okay?_

**Victor**  
12:32 PM  
 _The supplier didn’t have the order but it’s fine I’m just waiting to talk to people_

**Yuuri**  
12:32 PM  
 _Call me when you get back okay?_

**Victor**  
2:37 PM  
 _Thanks I’m fine_

Yuuri sits back against the couch and frowns at his phone. He’s not sure he’s ever actually seen Victor unhappy.

**Yuuri**  
2:37 PM  
 _Call me anyway?_

Victor does call, actually, an hour later. “I’m sorry,” he says the moment Yuuri picks up, not even waiting for a hello. “I was just a little stressed. I didn’t need to be so curt.”

Yuuri almost wants to laugh. “It’s no big deal,” he says. “Did you get the supplies?”

“No,” Victor says, and Yuuri can hear the threads of tension in his voice. “Bureaucracy is getting in the way. But it’ll be fine.” He exhales, long and low. “It seems I’m free tonight after all,” he says, his voice a little lighter. “Can I still come over?”

“Yeah, nothing’s changed,” Yuuri says. “You like Chinese food, right? I’ll order takeout. And before you insist on paying, at least let me pay for my order, all right?”

Victor laughs. “All right,” he says. “Just stick to the meat-free dishes for me. Three of them will be fine. I’ll be there at 5?”

“Looking forward to it.”

Once Yuuri hangs up, he rifles through some takeout menus on the kitchen counter and pulls out a Chinese one. There are some vegetarian options, though not many.

Factoring in the time difference, he waits a while to order, idly looking through one of the books he got at Rapsodie. Maybe someday he should try making one of these 1950s nightmares. Maybe he shouldn’t tempt fate.

Eventually, he makes the order, and not long after that, there’s a knock on his door. Too early to be the delivery person. When he opens it, it reveals a slightly disheveled-looking Victor, who waves and says, “Hi,” with a faint smile.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Yuuri asks as he lets him in. “You look a little tired.”

“I’m fine, no need to worry,” Victor says. He’s wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants again; he must have changed out of his less-comfortable work clothes. Looking around the apartment, he says, “You have the same layout as mine. I’m not surprised, really.”

“Yeah, I thought the same when I was at yours,” Yuuri says. “The food should be here soon, come on and sit.” He gestures to the kitchen table. They both take their seats.

Victor somewhat collapses into his. He really does look tired.

“Seriously, do you need a nap or something?” Yuuri asks. “You look like you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“It’s just been a long day,” Victor says. “Trust me, right now I’d rather be spending time with you than anything else.” This time, his smile is a little brighter.

“Sweet talker,” Yuuri says, giving a wry smile of his own. “Besides the supply run, anything else interesting happen in the last few days?”

“Hm.” Victor holds his chin in thought. “When we were picking up a body, Yuri Plisetsky found the deceased’s cat and tried to take it home,” he says. “Surprisingly, the director let him. The deceased has no relatives to speak of, and normally we would take it to a shelter, but apparently they bonded.” He shrugs. “I think half the reason Yakov okayed it is because we were surprised Yuri could form an attachment to a living creature.”

Yuuri remembers the leopard-print hoodie. “Does he like animals?” he asks.

“He’s only been working with us for a year, so I don’t know him that well,” Victor says. “But lately he’s been asking questions about pet funeral homes. Who knows, maybe he’s figuring out his calling.”

Vicchan was cremated. Yuuri still feels a little raw, but he’s improving. “Kind of a depressing calling,” he says.

“Better than not knowing what you want to do with your life, I suppose,” Victor says. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to figure it out that young.”

Then again, both Yuuri and Victor found their careers when they were in high school, so maybe Victor isn’t one to talk.

“How about you?” Victor asks. “Any more strange special orders?”

Yuuri doesn’t even need to think about this one. “Licorice root pie,” he says. “Literally just licorice root. A pile of twigs with a crust around it. I have no idea who could possibly want that, but someone did.”

“Was it at least a well-done pile of twigs with a crust around it?” Victor asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It was the best damn pile of twigs with a crust around it anyone has ever made,” Yuuri says emphatically. 

“I don’t know why I even asked.”

With another knock on the door, the food arrives. It’s a little awkward to try to pay for it simultaneously, but eventually Victor just pays for it himself and Yuuri reimburses him for his own order. They stack the plastic bags on the kitchen table and start opening everything.

“Fried rice, vegetable lo mein, and cabbage stir fry,” Victor says, looking over Yuuri’s picks for him. “The cabbage stir fry is actually quite good, I usually order it when I’m using this menu.”

“I honestly just kind of picked at random,” Yuuri confesses. “There weren’t a lot of options to begin with, and I didn’t think any of them would be bad.”

“True enough,” Victor says. 

“What do you want to drink?” Yuuri asks, moving towards the fridge. “Not that there are a lot of options here either, but anyway.”

“Anything alcoholic would not go amiss,” Victor says dryly.

“Right, long day,” Yuuri says. He pulls a beer out of the fridge and grabs a bottle opener from one of the kitchen cabinets, handing them both to Victor. For himself, he just pours a glass of water. _His_ day was pretty boring.

As Yuuri’s sitting down, Victor opens the bottle and takes a drink. And keeps going. And going. The bottle’s completely empty when he puts it back down. “Looong day,” he says grimly.

“…do you want another one, or--”

“No, this is fine,” Victor says, shaking his head. “Getting actually drunk wouldn’t do me any favors. I’d rather be mostly sober tonight.”

Yuuri sort of wants to see what kind of drunk Victor is, but maybe another time. 

They both start on their food. After chewing and swallowing his first bite of orange chicken, Yuuri asks, “So does meat just taste bad to you, or is it something gross?”

“I wouldn’t know about the latter, I’ve never had the opportunity,” Victor says, raising an eyebrow. “It tastes bad. I’ve never managed to swallow any.”

“Huh,” Yuuri says. “Biology’s weird.”

“That it is,” Victor says. He takes a bite of noodles and chews thoughtfully. Once he’s swallowed, he says, “I’m often curious about it. My life would be much easier without dietary restrictions.” He sighs. “I’d like to say that I make the best of it, but honestly, there’s no upside. I’d change in a heartbeat if I could.” He looks tired again.

“Well, speaking as someone who technically makes vegetarian food for a living, I don’t mind helping you out,” Yuuri says. “My last boyfriend never ate my cooking. It’s a relief that you do.”

“Your last boyfriend was an idiot,” Victor says instantly.

Yuuri laughs. “Yeah, I…I can’t really disagree with that,” he says.

They eat for a while longer, talking about nothing in particular. Yuuri sees some of the tension in Victor’s eyes fade. Not all of it, but some.

Once they’ve finished eating, Yuuri dumps all the empty boxes into the trash under the sink. All three of Victor’s were practically licked clean. Yuuri wonders if long days don’t include lunch breaks.

Victor stretches out his arms, bringing his fingers together and flexing with an audible _pop._ He leans back in his chair with a sigh.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t need a nap?” Yuuri asks, eyeing him.

Victor considers it for a few seconds, then shakes his head. “I needed food and a stress-free environment, and I’ve got both now,” he says with a smile. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for spending time with you,” Yuuri says, eyebrow raised. “I enjoy it too, you know.”

“Mm.” Victor seems content not to press the issue.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Yuuri asks, glancing back towards the couch.

“Would we actually be watching the movie, or end up otherwise occupied?” Victor asks dryly.

“…I was thinking the second one, yeah.”

“Then we don’t need the pretense,” Victor says as he stands up and moves to the couch with a wry smile on his face. Yuuri follows him. They both sit down, sides already pressed together. Victor’s lips are on Yuuri’s the moment they’re both on the couch.

And then off, as he pulls back with a grimace and says, “I’m sorry, could you wash your mouth out? You still taste like chicken.”

After a moment, Yuuri bursts into laughter. “Yeah, fine,” he says, getting off the couch and walking back to the kitchen. “You’re so high-maintenance.”

“I’m not the one who always has to stop before 8 PM because you go to bed earlier than an old man,” Victor calls out from the couch.

“I get up at 3:30 AM! I can’t help it if my sleep schedule is different!”

Yuuri does his best to wash out his mouth with a glass of water. Then he returns to the couch, leans over, and licks the inside of Victor’s mouth.

“That better?” Yuuri asks.

Victor grins. “Much,” he says, and pulls Yuuri back down.

They’ve never done the “frantic desperate kissing” thing, probably because they’ve never been short on time, early bedtime notwithstanding. It’s always slow and relaxing. Yuuri’s fine with that. It’s nice to just explore Victor’s mouth and absorb his body heat. There’s a certain amount of smugness in it, because Victor is _ridiculously_ attractive but seems to think kissing Yuuri is one of the best things ever. Take that, high school self-esteem issues!

After a little bit, Yuuri shifts over and straddles Victor’s lap, trying to have as a few seconds as possible where he’s not kissing Victor. This proves to be a great idea, because they’re both already a little hard and the friction is pretty great. Yuuri moves his face to softly kiss Victor’s neck, not enough to leave a mark, and rolls his hips forward a little, causing a sharp intake of breath from Victor. Another great idea. Man, he’s on _fire_ tonight.

They kiss for a while longer until the lap situation becomes even more obvious, and Yuuri presses down onto Victor’s crotch, not quite grinding. Victor whines, which doesn’t help at all. Yuuri trails his fingers down Victor’s chest and onto the edge of his sweatpants. He glances back at Victor. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Victor grins while he says, _“Absolutely.”_

Yuuri slides his fingers down into Victor’s underwear and grips his cock, running a thumb across it, eliciting a whine. He pulls it out of Victor’s sweatpants, and Victor’s hands--one on the small of Yuuri’s back, one higher up--grip at his shirt.

Yuuri’s other hand fumbles at his own jeans, which is kind of difficult to do with his left hand, but whatever, he’s managing. He pulls out his own cock, just as hard. He shifts his hips forward a little until his hands are touching, then lets go with his left hand and curls his right thumb around his cock, pulling it so it’s pressed against Victor’s. _Perfect._

His breath hitches as he grinds their cocks together with each rise and fall of his hand. Victor pulls him forward for a kiss, and Yuuri gets a rhythm going, both of them rolling their hips while their tongues entangle. Victor’s breath is heavy, his hands clenched in Yuuri’s shirt almost trembling.

Yuuri can’t tell how much time passes; probably not enough, because he’s definitely not opposed to continuing, but all things come to an end, so to speak. With a shuddering breath, Victor comes, Yuuri barely managing to move his hand to cover so there won’t be a mess. Shortly after, sparks burst behind his eyes and Yuuri comes too, and slumps back in Victor’s lap, feeling boneless.

He’s about to look around for a tissue when Victor lifts up his sticky hand and starts to lap up the come, his tongue running across Yuuri’s palm. Heat pools in Yuuri’s stomach just at the sight of it.

Yuuri’s hand is licked clean. When he finishes, Victor wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins. “Guess I was still a little hungry,” he says.

Yuuri almost bursts out laughing again. “You’re ridiculous,” he says instead.

“Mm.” Victor rests his head against Yuuri’s chest and closes his eyes. “As long as it’s the kind of ridiculous you like.”

Yuuri ruffles Victor’s hair. “Of course,” he says. “Do you want to stay here tonight? Even if I’m going to bed soon.”

Victor’s body seems to tense. “I’d like to,” he says, his voice slightly muffled. “But I should go back. I might be busy for a few days.”

“All right.” Yuuri shifts to move off Victor’s lap, but Victor’s grip on him tightens.

“Can we stay for a little?” Victor whispers. “Just because I’m not staying overnight doesn’t mean I want to leave just yet.”

Yuuri settles back and runs his hand through Victor’s hair. “Sure,” he says.

Victor seems to relax a little. “Thanks,” he says.

“You don’t have to thank me for it.”

“Well, I wanted to anyway.”

It’s a warm moment, quiet and peaceful. Yuuri could almost fall asleep here. He closes his eyes and keeps petting Victor’s hair, the combination of post-orgasm and Victor’s presence a powerful relaxant.

Eventually, Victor sighs. “I love you,” he mumbles into Yuuri’s shirt. “You don’t have to respond to that. I just wanted to say it.”

Yuuri opens his eyes in mild alarm. It’s a little early in the relationship for that, isn’t it? Yuuri certainly _likes_ Victor--a lot, really a lot--but love…maybe not quite yet. But Yuuri’s not going to _say_ that, not when Victor’s clinging to him like he doesn’t want Yuuri to ever leave. He remembers what Minako said about Victor being lonely. And Yuuri being convenient. 

Maybe Minako had a point when she warned Yuuri not to take advantage of him.

Yuuri draws back a little. “Where’d that come from?” he asks, trying not to sound too incredulous or too critical.

Victor exhales. “I guess one beer was too much after all,” he says, clearly trying to sound wry, but not really succeeding. “I’m just going to miss you, that’s all. I might be busy for more than a few days.”

“Okay, I’m kind of concerned now,” Yuuri says, drawing back a little more so he can look Victor in the eye. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just work stuff, I’ll be fine,” Victor says. “There’s no need to worry. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

Yuuri takes a look at Victor. He doesn’t look drunk, honestly. Just sort of sad. Yuuri definitely doesn’t _want_ Victor to be sad, but he gets the feeling Victor isn’t up to talking about it right now. Well. Hopefully later.

“Okay,” Yuuri says, not even trying to hide the concern in his voice. “As long as you’re all right.”

“I am, I promise,” Victor says. “And now that I’ve killed the moment, I should probably get going.” He lets go of Yuuri.

Yuuri pokes him in the forehead. “You didn’t kill it,” he says. “I had a great evening.” He shifts off of Victor and stands up, readjusting his pants. Victor does the same.

“So did I,” Victor says with a smile.

The walk from the couch to the front door isn’t very long. When Victor opens it--Yuuri briefly shivers from the sudden cold--he says, “I’ll talk to you later, Yuuri. Have a good night.”

“You too,” Yuuri says, and leans up and kisses him one last time.

Victor’s smile turns a little fragile. He kisses Yuuri’s forehead, and then he leaves, the door closing behind him with a heavy _thud._

After that, Yuuri doesn’t hear from Victor for almost a week.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [futuresoon](http://www.futuresoon.tumblr.com).


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